Daylight's Wastin'
by FuzziBurgers
Summary: What if Morgan... was a woman? A woman Rick has been looking for ever since he left her and her daughter at the police station? And what if he later encountered Morgan as the leader of her own group? Set post-Termites while the group is en route to D.C. Rated M for violence, language, and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi all! I have never written a fanfic before, and I am not a writer. I just wanted to get this idea out of my head. I have a whole long storyline built up to go along with it so I hope y'all like it. I will update as often as possible. Constructive criticism and comments are really appreciated! Thank you!_

Judith's cries had subsided to a whimper.

To Rick, that was worse. He knew that her pain had not gone away, she was just getting too weak to continue screaming. He held her closer and as gently as possible. He cradled her rear in the freshest blanket they could find. The diaper rash had spread to her back. He was worried about infection. He was also more and more worried about feeding her. Since she had begun to eat mashed and soft foods, they had gradually gotten rid of the formula. Now the pain was so bad, she did not want to eat. He wished he had some formula to mix in her water. The past few towns had offered nothing.

There were other worries on Rick's mind as well. For one, Beth. Ever since Daryl and Carol had rescued Beth from the Fantana Colony, his fear had grown along with her bulging belly. What had they done to the baby that was growing inside her? Beth recounted a horrifying experience, full of stories about cruel medical testing and experiments. Rick glanced over. The time until Beth's delivery was ticking down.

The entire group was hungry, weary, frustrated. The terrain over the Appalachian Mountain range was more and more difficult by the day. Every town they came to had already been scavenged.

"There's another town ahead. I see the water tower," Daryl said. Michonne let out a sigh. Rick could feel the collective frustration. Another town to clear of walkers, another town already cleared of supplies.

"Maybe we should make camp here, and go in the morning," Carl suggested.

"Might be better camp in town. Plus, whoever's been scavenging these towns might be closer than we think," Daryl said.

"Daryl's right. We are too close for comfort. We need to be sure it's clear before we rest. At least scout it," Rick determined.

"Let's go," Michonne offered, turning her face to Rick. Rick nodded to Tyreese, who stepped forward to take Judith from his arms. Thus the melee group formed with Rick leading. Daryl and Michonne fell in step to the right and left of him, respectively. Carl began to follow. Rick paused, and turned to look at his son.

Carl was taller than Rick's shoulder now. A unspoken understanding passed between father and son, and Rick nodded. The ends of Carl's mouth flicked briefly, and the four of them started towards the town, while Tyreese, Carol, Sasha, Beth, Father Gabriel, and baby Judith faded into the treeline to make camp.

"Shhhhhh," Daryl hissed, crouching behind the abandoned car. A group of three, one woman and two men, loaded armfuls of children's clothing into their van. The unsuspecting trio looked… well fed. Clean. Not hardened by months on foot over rocky terrain.

Damn, we could really use those clothes, Rick thought. His steely blue eyes fixated on the cargo inside the van the group was rearranging to make room for their new haul. Formula. Diapers. This was too much. He sliced his glance over to Michonne.

"We take 'em."

"Whoa now, we don't want any trouble," The older man said, his arms raised. The younger man held his semi-automatic to the side.

"Drop it," Daryl growled behind the young man, his crossbow aimed at the back of the man's head.

"Carl, grab the formula, diapers… some of them clothes," Rick drawled, keeping his gun—and his gaze—on the man in front of him. Michonne stood poised behind the woman, her katana gleaming in the fading sunlight.

"Take it. We don't need formula anyway," the older man said. "My name's Bart."

"We don't care about your name," Rick said deliberately, slowly, with an almost bored look in his eyes.

"My name's Bart," he repeated, "Is there a baby with your group? You have a boy, there." Rick stared at the man in steely silence. He did not see this group as a threat, but with his children's life on the line… well, he just couldn't risk it.

"Look, I really shouldn't tell you this since you are holding a gun to my head and all, but I know who can help you. I know who helps babies." Bart said.

"We're not interested in your help," Daryl said, "We've had our fair share of _help_." Bitterly, he spit into the ground beside the younger man's shoe.

"I'm not from Fontana, or one of those sick Terminus fuckers," Bart said, sweat beading on his forehead. "I won't tell you where we are from or—God willing—where we are going. I will tell you who can help you, but you have to be good people. You cannot fuck with them, or you will pay a price. But… it's what they do. Help babies. Children."

Rick's mouth twitched. It wouldn't hurt to hear them out.

"The Sisters of Mercy is what we call them," Bart continued, "Lower your weapon and assure that we are safe to go. We will gladly give you all of the formula and be on our way."

"You don't have to give it, dumbass," Daryl snarled. Carl was shoving formula canisters into a plastic sack he found in the back of the van. He grabbed big handfuls of clothing, diapers, tubes and jars of cream that he did not recognize. He emptied another bag of adult clothes and started stuffing it full of canned goods as well.

"Well?" Rick asked, weapon poised. Bart nodded towards the car. Rick, Daryl, and Michonne followed their charges until they had almost reached the car doors. Carl dragged four bags full away from the car, looking around carefully, then raising his gun to follow his father's aim.

"The Sisters of Mercy. Follow this highway until you get to 367. Follow the signs until you get to the beginning of the trail for Pump Gap trail towards the Silvermine Campground. Follow that trail, but be careful. They will find you, if you have a baby with you. If you don't have that baby and you cross into their land… God help you. Like I said, don't fuck with them." Bart cautiously reached for the door handle. Rick nodded slightly.

The three scavengers slid into the van and started it. Bart nodded once at Rick, and they were gone, the back of the van still open.

"We're just going to let them get away? We coulda fit all our people into that van an took it to D.C. What's the plan here, man? We gonna scrounge for gasoline? Take four bags of nothin' much back to Judith and Beth?"

"They looked pretty healthy," Michonne pointed out, suspecting the real reasons behind Rick's decision.

"Yeah, probably because they've been riding around in that van while we've been getting our asses kicked by these hills," Daryl said as he paced.

"Leaving them here with their one gun would have been a death sentence," Rick said, shielding his eyes from the final blazing rays of the setting sun.

"We could have kept them with us," Carl offered. Rick gave him a hard glare, then looked around to Daryl and Michonne.

"We become those people, people like the Governor and the Termites, and you see how we end up. A better group will conquer us. We have to be that better group. We don't need the van."

"Been talkin' to Glenn too much. And Bob," Daryl muttered under his breath.

"Is there a question, Daryl?" Rick leaned forward, dropping his head to meet Daryl's eyeline. Daryl's weight and tone shifted as he shook his head.

"Naw," Daryl said, meeting Rick's gaze, "We're alright." He moved towards the pile of clothes in the middle of the road.

"Damn, I guess that's all we got left. Shoulda took their g-ddamned van," Daryl kicked at the remnants of the haul that had fallen out of the retreating vehicle. "A coupla Old Navy fleece jackets."

Rick followed the van's dust cloud with his gaze until it was out of sight.

"Get 'em. We might need 'em. We're going to the mountains."

The next morning, the group arose with a renewed anxiety. They had discussed the possible journey up the trail in hushed tones the night before, as Judith slept fitfully in Tyreese's arms. The consensus was that they were going. The trip to Washington D.C. was a long one, and there had to be a solution for Beth besides having her baby in the harsh wilderness. Nights were cool, but they would start getting cold soon. If nothing else, Rick knew there would be a couple of campgrounds in the area where they could stay in relative safety and comfort.

In the back of Rick's mind, he was hoping they could find a safe place for Beth for the next several months. She was one of his charges, for sure, but a heavily pregnant woman and an infant of unknown origin were a lot to take on a road trip. He should know.

If worse came to worse, Rick was confident they could handle themselves. He stressed awareness, caution, careful planning. The group set off as the sun began to rise.

The journey up the trail was arduous. Two cars poached from the nearby town got them as far as possible. The hiking trail was well carved, but they did not stick to the trail. In the sometimes thick brush, the group trudged slope-shouldered. Judith was quiet and more content now that she was formula fed and slathered with some Neutrogena Face Cream, the best of what Carl's haul had to offer.

A rustle in the brush stopped them in their tracks, the entire group pivoted, holding their weapons at the ready.

Behind them, a strong female voice rang out.

"Rick Grimes."

Rick and the group turned back carefully. Three women stood at the top of a natural rock formation. They looked wild but collected. All three raised drawn bows towards the group. The two on the right of the trio wore faded yoga pants that were cut at the knees, moccasins, and sweatshirts. The woman in the center also had a bag across her body.

The woman on the left, though, the one who had called his name… she looked so familiar. Her hair was short, almost choppy. She had on khaki shorts and a long-sleeve black shirt under a Nike sweatshirt. The sweatshirt had the arms ripped off. She was also wearing moccasins. Smart, Rick thought. Clothes and shoes that wouldn't make any noise.

All three women had swipes of some sort of black cream around their eyes and winged to the side, giving them bird-like appearances. Their hair was woven in braids to keep it out of their faces.

"Rick Grimes," the woman restated, "We will help that baby. Lower your weapons. You." She motioned with her drawn arrow to the pregnant Beth. "You bring her forward. _Lower your weapons_." Her voice was calm, measured, yet forceful. Rick lowered his gun and raised his index finger to the group. They followed suit.

The entire time, his gaze never left this wild woman's, and her arrow never left its aim at his eyeball. Beth took Judith into her arms, and cautiously moved forward. The woman in the middle of the trio lowered her weapon and kneeled to the ground. Beth kneeled as well, and the woman took out a canteen of water to offer to Beth. Beth hesitated a glance towards Rick and Tyreese, then she laid the baby down on the ground. The woman began to inspect Judith and offered an ointment for her rash and a glass jar of some watery milk-like liquid.

"Hell, naw. We don't even know these people!" Daryl protested to Rick. Rick raised a hand to calm him again. Father Gabriel nervously wringed his hands.

Rick's eyes had softened into recognition. He kept them locked on the woman to the left: the woman who had called his name, who had comforted him and consoled him in - what felt like - ages ago. His voice was hoarse, his tone was soft, and he said her name as if he had been waiting to meet her around every turn.

"Morgan."

"Morgan," Rick stated again. He was sure now. It was in the way she said his name, and the way her eye color popped in a slather of dark balm. "How… Are you…."

"Rick, right now you need to listen." The rustling behind the group continued, but they did not have a chance to turn. In one quick movement, Morgan sent an arrow sailing over Daryl's shoulder and into the eye of a very slow, very decayed walker. In the second that the group reacted, Morgan had reloaded and pointed her arrow again at Rick.

"Keep going straight about 300 yards. You will come to a large clearing. Once you get there, you will be able to see a rock formation on the ridge. Go towards that formation. On your way, you will notice our warning. This is a warning to all those who mistake our kindness for weakness. If you are wise," her gaze still locked with Rick's, "you will head our warning. Set up camp once you get past the clearing. We will find you. We are watching you." With that, the middle woman of the trio picked up her bow, and Beth retreated back to the group with Judith.

The wild trio backed silently down the rock formation, weapons poised. Tyreese ran over to the rock formation and hauled his body upwards towards the top. The women were gone.

"Damn," Daryl said, plucking the arrow out of the walker's head. Rick let out a whooshing sigh. He did not even realize that he had been holding his breath.

"Well… that was…" Carol trailed off.

"Weird," Sasha said, "Do you know her, Rick?"

Carl looked at his dad. "Wasn't Morgan the person who helped you after you left the hospital?" he asked. Rick relaxed his hands to his hips and shifted his weight.

"Yep," was all that he said, but inside a hundred questions tumbled in his brain. He wanted desperately to talk to Morgan and find out about her journey. He hoped that she had an easier time than he did, but from her guarded greeting, he doubted it.

Tyreese peeked over the ridge of the rock formation at the arrow Daryl was inspecting and let out an amused laugh.

"A quick arrow to the head by a beautiful wild woman. What a way to go!"


	2. Chapter 2

_**I forgot to mention earlier that I cut out the episode with Morgan and the booby-trapped town from my storyline, because I need her daughter to be OK for the purpose of my plot.**_

Chapter 2: The Warning Sign

The warning was definitely effective, but Rick didn't think there was anything that could shock him anymore.

"Crucifixion?" Carol said, looking up at the rows of walkers staked to posts. Most of the walkers had already been put out of their undead misery. It was obvious that the remaining animated walkers had been allowed to turn while staked to the posts.

"From the looks of 'em, they let the crows get 'em. Or the buzzards," Daryl said.

"Ugh!" Beth frowned.

"Hey, buzzards've gotta eat too," Daryl said.

"Rick, listen, are these people we want to get involved with? I mean, look at this," Sasha motioned towards one particularly decayed walker, its body suspended by one last remaining sinew of the hand.

"I know Morgan," Rick's deep timbered voice drawled, "I would not be here if it wasn't for her." He still had some trouble convincing himself that this was a good thing. "Let me talk to her. If there is anything suspicious, we walk away."

"Hopefully," Sasha said, eyeing the crucified walkers as the group passed through the field.

============================TWD=========================

Once the group settled into camp, Rick felt confident enough to move closer towards the rock formation in the hopes of meeting Morgan again. He didn't have to walk far.

"Rick." She soundlessly appeared out of the brush. Rick jumped nearly three feet. She relaxed her gentle face into an amused but wary half-smile. "It's good to see you again. You look like hell."

Rick laughed gently. She didn't look like hell; she actually looked vibrant. "I never thought I would see you again," Rick said, "And your little girl. Is she…."

"She's alive," Morgan said, "It's been tough."

"That's a pretty decent understatement." Rick moved closer towards her. She raised her bow. He noticed that he did not even realize that she had it drawn by her side. He mentally kicked himself. He could not afford rash judgments, even if his mind sought the comfort in this connection.

"Right there," Morgan indicated an invisible line between them.

"Morgan, I will always owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude. We are not here to hurt you."

"I feel you are a good man, Rick, as you were when you first gave me the guns and ammo to get out of that neighborhood. But… people change. I cannot afford to trust outsiders. My group cannot afford it."

"You have a group? That sounds like there must be trust there."

"My group operates under a collective mission. I need to set some ground rules with you and your people."

"Shoot. I mean, put the arrow down, then tell me."

"Was that your attempt at being funny, Rick?" Morgan said, not unkindly.

"What can I say? These walkers are really cramping my sense of humor. And so is your bow. People do change, I guess."

Morgan slowly released her taught bow and lowered it to her side. She kept her hands at the ready, however, her fingers clutched so hard an ache began to gnaw at her knuckles. Her heart was pounding.

"No, you didn't seem to have much of a sense of humor before, either," she retorted.

He did look like seven kinds of hell. Why did she find him even more attractive then? Dangerous, dangerous thoughts, she told herself.

"If you are willing, your women and children can come to the mine. We will not harm them. In fact, we will give them shelter, good food, and medical care. No weapons," she continued.

"Why? Why not everyone?" Rick asked, suspiciously. A black bird startled the branches above them. They both looked up at it, then back at each other at the same time.

"We do not take men into our cave," She flushed ever so slightly it was almost imperceptible. She bit a tiny piece of her bottom lip. She was a grown-ass woman. Why should she flush at such a juvenile innuendo? Rick raised his eyebrows.

"I mean," she continued, "our camp. If you do not choose our assistance, we will provide you with food for the night, but you must leave at daybreak. Those are the rules. You don't have to understand them. You just have to follow them."

"You can't possibly think that any one of my group would be willing to go along with strangers unarmed. Strangers who crucify people to the birds and then let them turn."

"As I recall telling you, that is a warning for those who mistake this offer as an offer of the weak. We have a collective mission, and if you would like to benefit from that mission it is up to you to abide by our rules. Discuss it with your group." Morgan walked towards the treeline.

"Morgan," Rick called. Morgan stopped and turned halfway towards him. He studied her profile as he continued in a low voice, "I met you once, and I meet you again, as a friend. A friend in need. We can help each other."

"I'm already out on a limb for you. I cannot go any further. Discuss it with your group," she said, vanishing into the overgrown brush.

============================TWD=========================

Rick returned to the campsite. The two tents they had been using to house Judith and Beth were shabby. They barely kept the rain out anymore. Father Gabriel knelt at the edge of the camp deep in prayer and rocking back and forth on his heels. The rest of the group sat around the freshly-lit fire, sharing a can of green beans. The quiet humming of the woodland insects signaled the approaching sundown.

"I talked to Morgan. I… I think they want to help us," Rick said.

"Wait, you talked to her just now?" Daryl asked, "I thought you were taking a dump. Man, these women are quiet."

"Quiet and fast," Tyreese noted.

Rick continued, "They offered food, shelter, and medical care."

"In exchange for?" Sasha asked.

"Not in exchange for. In exclusion of," Rick said, "men. They only help women and children."

Carl sighed, "Great. I'm starving."

"Ain't nobody gonna mistake you for no man," Tyreese prodded, smiling. Carl flicked a tree branch at him.

"Well, that is interesting. Where is their camp?" Sasha asked.

"In the old mine," Rick said. "They are onto our every move. It'd be hard to back y'all up."

"Definitely too risky," Sasha looked over at Judith.

"You know…" Carol said, "Those women we saw in the woods looked good. Strong. I will go and see if they are legitimate. I will go and…"

"…be fed and sheltered for the night?" Tyreese asked, skeptically.

Carol smiled slightly, "something like that."

"I will go with you. Or instead of you," Michonne offered.

"No," Carol said, "You are too valuable to the team here. I will go on the condition that I can return to report back tonight."

"You are a valuable member of the team here, too, Carol," Rick said.

Carol gave him an appreciative look. "I will go," she said softly.

Rick studied her for a moment. "I will walk you there."


End file.
